


need the deep end

by Lutelyre



Category: Naruto
Genre: Desert, Dreams and Nightmares, I Don't Even Know, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Kiri is messed up, Kirigakure | Hidden Mist Village, M/M, Mentioned Uchiha Itachi, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Canon Compliant, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Suigetsu has had a hard time, team taka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutelyre/pseuds/Lutelyre
Summary: And satisfaction is a distant memory...





	need the deep end

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe I started this fic way back in like...2013?? Found it in my drive and decided to polish it up and post, as I'm trying to be a bit more regular about writing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! This is mirror-posted on FF.net, under the same name.

Uchiha Sasuke’s rag-tag entourage had been traveling through the western desert for about a week, steadily crossing through miles of sand in a supposed ‘shortcut’ to a hidden Akatsuki camp, when Suigetsu firmly decided he was about an inch from committing mass murder.

Suigetsu hated the desert - It was pointless and pitiful, a skull infested with scorpions, crumbling marrow fragmenting off in flakes from a black-teeth smile. The sky in the desert always has an empty gray cast to it, a massive tombstone hovering above all their heads, and Suigetsu was completely sick of it. 

Trudging fruitlessly through the dust, Suigetsu dreams of liquid -- cool glass lakes drifting with moss, cubes of ice sliding down his back and wetness splashing on his face, in his mouth, on his skin. He thinks of swims in a vast ocean, floating and salt-absorbing and pruny all over. Blissful.

After dreaming like that, and then snapping from his haze to find the tender skin of his back and arms stained a brilliant scarlet, it was all enough to make Suigetsu chip a tooth.

Karin bitches about applying sunscreen to his lobster-flush, and he takes perverse enjoyment in the way she wrinkled her nose as her fingers packed the extra layers onto his skin. She isn’t gentle and Suigetsu wants to wince from the sting of her nails, but he’s a fucking A-rank missing-nin and they just don't do that shit. 

He sharpens his teeth on kunai to take out his frustration, gnaws so aggressively from his water bottle the straw snaps in half more than once.

Karin might be in her element with the aching heat of the desert -- smoothing lotion on her arms and opening progressively more buttons of her shirt, and Juugo might not care about anything other than his new medication, but Suigetsu was fucking tired of the dryness blistering his lungs.

Sometimes at night, he dreamed forgotten dreams; the red mist of dawn billowing up between nimbus clouds when he was young in Kirigakure—that short time of his life where he’d gallivanted on the shores of sea-rock, felt the ocean spray his face, and known exactly who he was. 

Froth spits from tall, white-gray waves as they smash recklessly on a salty shoreline, powerful as the chakra that surged in his veins. There was the creak of oiled wood and stretched canvas as ships harbored at docks and unfurled sails, and the stink of fish in his nose, fresh-caught and bloody. The clamor of a fish market, aquatic white bellies out on display, slimy fingers stopping up gills, and voices shouting prices into a reeking, sweltering town square. 

The dreams were vivid, smeared across his consciousness like the very sand his company trudged through, and he can taste mackerel and tuna and salmon on his tongue when he wakes up. 

Images flit in mirages along the corners of his vision as he races across the sands; a white-haired little demon, a child who dashes along a beach of soft black pebbles, leaps off of a cliff-edge to dive into the violent maw of open sea below, and laughs at his own magnificence.

Suigetsu blinks his eyes away from the visions.

X

Dehydrated, unsettled and twitchy, Suigetsu is lazy, lagging behind the team as they trudged through the sand. He complains until even Sasuke's eyebrows spasm, and slurps from his bottle every other minute.

Unfortunately, this also meant said bottle emptied itself alarmingly fast. 

Unwilling to risk the complications should Suigetsu use too much of his elemental being to fill it, Sasuke took it upon himself (bitchily, the little git) to keep Suigetsu’s bottle full. 

Suigetsu would’ve appreciated the gesture, really, but he was too busy conserving his energies as it was to grovel with things like gratitude, grudging and reluctant as that particular feeling always seemed to be.

Besides, when the red-eyed fucker took away his canteen to refill it from their precious supplies, Suigetsu always felt an intense, and unprecedented urge to grab Sasuke’s windpipe and crush it in his palm, to pin him into the sand and eat those swirling red eyes out of Sasuke’s skull with his teeth. 

Sasuke’s pupils were always crimson and gleaming these days, only going black under the cover of a restless sleep, and Suigetsu hated to admit it but they looked—

Juicy.

Inevitably, when the last dregs of his bottle ran dry and the chewing of his straw had increased to such a feverish pitch Karin started asking him where he’d lost his pacifier, Sasuke would come and take it away, his fingers confidently unhesitant on the worn strap. 

Suigetsu shakes off the urge to tackle him to the ground, grind his face into the sand and make him swallow his arrogance--

\--and maybe Suigetsu’s cock. No one could say Suigetsu wasn’t a bit of a sick bastard.

Besides, Sasuke was just asking for it; the cool planes of skin glimpsed beneath that ridiculously scandalous shirt, the sweat that condensed on the back of his neck in salty droplets, begging to be licked off. There was agility in the lines of his wrist, aristocracy in his stance, and Suigetsu wanted to grab him by his hips in the sand and ask him if he liked to fuck that way. 

In the end though, Suigetsu relinquished his bottle without much more than a whine.

After all, he was barely keeping it together as it is.

He barely even complained when it was returned to him full of gritty, lukewarm water, smelling foul and tasting fouler. 

In fact, Suigetsu’s whining, despite its increased volume, was more infrequent every day they traveled. The desert leeched energy from him, left him porous and stiff; a wrung out sponge.

X

Under the icy air of the desert moon at nightfall, Suigetsu still feels parched, but can more easily pretend otherwise. At night there is sand blowing up in his face, waves across a dead sea. At night there is a slow slide of grain crusting in his hair as he lies in the sand, the sky a giant star-filled vista unfurling above him.

At night, there is a little white-haired child sparkling between folds of darkness, a child with amethyst chip eyes cruel and vicious, his smile dagger-edged and mocking as he weaves his way through Suigetsu’s vision like a diamond-faceted eel.

Suigetsu is more annoyed with this phantom version of his younger self than anything. It’s ridiculous to let the desert and the way it mesmerizes him into a sluggish shell of his usual quicksilver self allow anything get out of control, let anything get to his head. 

That’s just fucking childish.

Still, the trance of Kirigakure swells in his dreams, ripe with salt air. It pulls him under and tosses him against whirlpool rocks, twists him into a maelstrom, and he jerks awake gasping and reaching out for something he’s already forgotten. 

He pants, wild-eyed, the ocean in his throat and something bitter clinging to his mind as he looks around for a demon-child that really doesn’t exist anymore and hasn’t for a while, if he ever did at all.

The taste fades away of course, and Suigetsu is pissed at himself. 

Later, the little-boy-laughter comes finally, malicious and derisive, tinkling in his ears when the sun is bleeding out of its highest point in the sky.

X

At night, Suigetsu likes to watch as Sasuke folds himself up into his sleeves and sits moodily at the edge of camp. 

He also occasionally rehydrates.

Being a frugal idiot, Sasuke was strict about rationing their meager water supply. Water jutsu in a desert is massively chakra-depleting. Even so, sometimes in the night Sasuke replenishes his canteen and then pours half of out over his face, wets his hand and slaps it to the back of his neck, douses his head and shakes his hair like a wet dog.

It was wasteful.

It was also fucking hot, and made Suigetsu hard faster than it took for Sasuke to flip his soaked hair back, the curve of his neck a flash of pristine perfection.

Suigetsu would normally ignore it.

He knows Sasuke, unfeeling prick that he is, is not about to let himself get distracted. Hell, Suigetsu doesn’t want to be some reverent, admiring follower of the Uchiha, anyway. He’s not like Kisame, that creepy fish fucker with his glowing eyes and weird obsession with his Itachi-san. 

The shark-man was eerily nostalgic, which was stupid but true. Kisame had been long fled from Kirigakure and just a nursery tale when Suigetsu was merely teething. 

Still, Suigetsu was envious of his sword and gills the way only Kirigakure native survivors could be jealous toward one another’s bloodlines. This and the fact that they were both survivors at all designated Kisame a sort of grudging respect Suigetsu rarely felt the need to give anyone. 

Also, perhaps most importantly, Suigetsu always had liked hearing Kisame’s own little massacre bedtime story best. Brutal, bloody, messy fun. The coup of Kirigakure’s corrupted Mizukage. The clearing of crimson mist around a blue-shouldered man lifting a sword that drained color from the air itself. The strewn carnage in the streets. Suigetsu didn’t deny he was a sucker for the sheer horror of it -- it reeked of sweaty, anarchic freedom. 

Suigetsu was lazy, but stories are always easy to tell.

Meeting the man though, well, that was a major letdown. 

Proper respect for his sizable weapon notwithstanding, (He did not ensue innuendo in any terms there, despite admitted potential) Suigetsu had watched the way Kisame’s eyes followed Itachi’s movements precisely, from the shifting of his weight to the blink of his lashes, and thought disappointedly that perhaps this legend was victim to exaggeration. 

There was no denying that Itachi was a god, a being of a different making that others only hope to follow. Suigetsu could feel the shining beacon of Sasuke’s brothers’ chakra singing deep into the marrow of his bones every time they came within a few miles of the guy. But everyone knew this. Sasuke and Konoha and the Akatsuki and Suigetsu and fucking everyone. 

There was no new shit here, because Suigetsu had known and obeyed gods like that his whole damn life.

There was no way he’d ever seriously call his own company’s little red-eyed protégé ‘Sasuke-san’.

So he wasn’t like Kisame. He didn’t even really care about Sasuke that much, when it came down to it. Long ago, when they first met, he might’ve been inspired by Sasuke’s brand of hair-fine brilliance, back when he saw him through the glass of his tank, where everything was dimly shadowed in a liquid-distorted veil. 

Sasuke was untouchable, calmly assessing Suigetsu’s undulating incorporeal form shifting in the blink of an eye, from icy slush to steam to liquid to human and back again, his hands slipping on the glass and weeping water droplets from between the grooves of pruny fingerprints. 

The trouble with the damn tank had been that he could never quite stay focused enough on one shape to hold it for longer than a few minutes--for months he’d half-lived in a unending state of disoriented change. There was such a thing as oversaturation.

He’d smiled at Sasuke’s blurred form outside the glass as his face disintegrated, bared his teeth, and was amused with how the guards around Sasuke flinched at his sharpened dentals but the Uchiha himself barely stirred. 

When Orochimaru’s voice filtered through the tank, Suigetsu observed how Sasuke loftily slipped out from under the Snake-sannin’s patronizing hand on his shoulder and walked out the door without so much as a backward glance. Fucking impressive. He’d cackled to himself and heated into a steam that hissed against the glass.

There was just one good thing Suigetsu could say about the tank, as he thinks of it now with dry-ass sand itching in every conceivable place, which was that it was always, always wet. 

But the thing was, Sasuke was not the ephemeral figure behind the glass now. He was quite as real as Suigetsu, and really fucking annoying most days with his sneers and scoffs. Powerful as shit, of course, imposing and glacially disconnected except when he got into a rare rage, every inch an avenger. Suigetsu could almost believe it.

But all of that grated his nerves. Sasuke on his high and mighty mountain of purpose. Sasuke with his deceptively fragile wrists beneath his sleeves. 

Sasuke with his broken-bird, struggling, completely unstable look that he thinks is hidden behind the rage in his eyes, but his anger really only makes it more palpable, tangible in Suigetsu’s fingers when he grabs Sasuke’s forearm in a spar or slings a mocking arm over his shoulders. 

Sasuke with his arrogant fingers on the strap of Suigetsu’s water bottle, bearing it away like he owned the world.

The white-haired child snickers.

So, Suigetsu would normally ignore it. But Sasuke in the desert is Sasuke dry and craving water in the middle of the night, Sasuke with ripe red eyes, Sasuke the not-god.

It’s already established that Suigetsu is a bit of a sick bastard.

X

One night, Suigetsu wakes to dessicated air and hot sweat on his back, Kirigakure screaming out of his sleep with such vividness he reels from it, so full of the sea he shakes with the urge to melt into liquid himself. 

The little white-haired boy is nowhere to be seen, but Suigetsu can taste him like seaweed and sunbeams cloying in his mouth. He thinks he can almost see seagulls gliding in the canopy of stars above them. His ears ring with wind that buffets on the seacoast. Flayed to the quick, he curses.

Across the encampment on watch, Sasuke paused swallowing from his canteen. Water runs in droplets on his chin, through the mess of his hair, falling down his neck in little drips.

He regards Suigetsu with a sneer.

It should really be of no surprise to anyone that Suigetsu tackles him.

For half a second as they wrestle, Suigetsu is perversely pleased that Sasuke does not immediately cut his throat. For all of his supposed prodigy, Uchiha Sasuke did not react quite quickly enough to immediately win the fight. Fucking hilarious.

So when Sasuke’s eyes spin red and he tries to gut Suigetsu only a heartbeat later, Suigetsu is ready for him. He shoves Sasuke into the ground, presses a kunai lovingly to his neck and slaps a hand over his eyes with a crack that makes the Uchiha wince almost on reflex.

“Shh, shh Sasuke. No need to get feisty now, y’know.” Suigetsu drawls, all mocking sweetness. “I’m not gonna do anything too nasty.”

Salt is under his tongue but Sasuke is on the ground, and that is interesting enough to push away long-forgotten memories for the moment, if only the moment.

Sasuke’s mouth is one hard gritted line that Suigetsu can’t wait to break open, crack like a nut and eat the soft nugget of flavor inside. His eyelashes flutter under Suigetsu’s hand reflexively, and Suigetsu tries hard not to notice that the feather-soft touch is a total turn-on. 

Sasuke remains still, conscious of the kunai still on the tender apple of his throat, pressing a miniscule line of blood out delicately, skin splitting like a flush peach under the steel. Suigetsu is impressed that Sasuke’s voice is so steady when he speaks, but then this is Uchiha Sasuke, the man who killed Orochimaru, legendary Snake Sannin, and he supposes one must take that into account.

“What the fuck are you doing, Suigetsu.” It’s not even a question, his tone is that menacing.

It’s so perfect Suigetsu almost giggles.

Water from the canteen is still glistening on Sasuke’s lips like tiny stars fallen from the heavens, and Suigetsu leans down to lick the droplets up. Sasuke’s lips taste of sand, but that doesn’t really matter because they are gloriously wet, and Sasuke suddenly goes ramrod stiff and silent beneath him. 

That’s glorious too. Fucking glorious.

“You taste good, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke’s lips twitch in disdain. He shifts below Suigetsu like he’s waiting for the slightest drop in Suigetsu’s guard to carve him open throat to stomach, and Suigetsu presses the kunai more firmly against Sasuke’s throat in response to the thinly veiled threat. Sasuke gags a bit, choking.

What a beautiful sound.

He grinds his palm down against Sasuke’s eye sockets and revels in the minute flinches that result. Leaning down, he kisses Sasuke, lips chapped from the desert wind. It’s an angry kiss, the kunai making Sasuke scramble to breathe, but Suigetsu loves it.

When Sasuke bites him, he actually does giggle. Sasuke should know he doesn’t mind a little violence. He’s a mist-nin after all, and Kirigakure isn’t exactly a happy, lovey-dovey, vanilla-sex-only kind of place, never has been and never will be.

He bites Sasuke back, a thin trickle of blood welling from Sasuke’s lower lip to slide down his chin, and chuckles when Sasuke jerks reflexively, a soft “tch” of pain dying in his throat. He dances the kunai along Sasuke’s jaw, a heady possessive anger heating up in his veins.

Suigetsu is hard in his pants, his mind fevered by lust and roiling Kiri sea spray.

He grinds his hips down onto Sasuke’s own and relishes it when Sasuke breath catches in surprise. It’s fantastic, all of it; the blood on Sasuke’s mouth, the bony angle of his jaw, the way his hips twitch under the insistent press of Suigetsu’s own.

But it’s not enough. It’s not really nearly enough at all, and Suigetsu distantly is somewhat surprised at himself when his focus slips. 

Seaweed rises in his mouth, suddenly overwhelming. He jerks spastically, his hand clenching on the kunai, and Sasuke makes a startled noise, arches up violently as the blade slices against his cheekbone, opening a line of red flesh. Suigetsu flounders, caught between two worlds, as Sasuke bucks beneath him, twists like a snake and suddenly switches their positions.

Sasuke’s hand is strong and rough on his jaw, the blunted end of the kunai pressed up against his jugular, and Suigetsu can’t help but burst into rasping laughter at the haughty, disheveled wrath that radiates from Sasuke’s rapidly pin-wheeling sharingan eyes. Above them, the sky is an endless blanket of stars, silhouetting Sasuke’s shape. 

 

He jerks around under Sasuke, coughing against the uncomfortable gag of the blade and trying to catch his breath. Sasuke narrows his eyes, tightens his thighs around Suigetsu’s hips.

The sudden friction burns, and Suigetsu rolls his hips, groans just a little bit. 

Sasuke’s glare becomes even more insipid, but Suigetsu can see his mouth, open and panting, and feel the way Sasuke’s hips are poised just above his own. He locks eyes with Sasuke, licks bloody lips.

“Suigetsu, you’re disgusting.”

Suigetsu laughs again. He can’t help it. This is just priceless.

“We both know you don’t really think that, do you?” He drawls. The kunai-strike on Sasuke’s cheek looks eminently lickable.

“C’mon, Sasuke-kun.” He rolls his hips again; feels the slightest responding quiver.

Of course Sasuke wanted it. He wasn’t made of stone after all, Suigetsu’s pretty sure. He’s heard the stories, back with Orochimaru, that Sasuke had taken bed partners, though only briefly. He’d heard the rumors, that Sasuke and that annoying blonde idiot in Konoha had been more than just teammates. Sasuke just needed a push.

Suigetsu would give him one.

With that thought, he makes a bold, entirely reckless move and arches his back, jolting his hips up to violently meet Sasuke’s, choking against the blunted edge of the kunai and not giving a fuck about it. The result is electric, and Sasuke grinds down automatically. His breath catches in his throat, a tiny groan scraping just barely past his lips as they connect, and Suigetsu feels a surge of hot, heady triumph.

Sasuke locks eyes with him. There is a split-second moment where they tremble, panting on a sudden edge, Suigetsu’s grin wide and mocking, before Sasuke swears furiously and rocks his pelvis forward.

He sets up a rhythm of their hips, harsh and jarring. The kunai is still pressed on Suigetsu’s neck, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He fastens his hands on Sasuke’s hipbones, thumbs the curves of his pelvis, the ridges of his sides and angles of his back, panting as they move together. Sasuke’s breath is hot on his ear, and he bites viciously at Suigetsu’s collarbone, his neck, the line of his jaw. Their lips meet and Sasuke pushes his tongue recklessly into Suigetsu's mouth, uncaring at the sting of needle-sharp teeth.

Sasuke’s body is singing under Suigetsu's hands, and the burn of his cock against Suigetsu’s through his pants is molten in his core and driving out the roars of sea-waves still thundering behind his eyes. He snatches the kunai from Sasuke’s loose hand and throws it to the side, forgotten in the sand as they wrestle, swallowing muffled groans so as not to wake the others. It is tight and hot, everything Suigetsu ever imagined, as Sasuke’s nails drag down his chest. They pull each other’s shirts off, open belts with frantic fingers. Suigetsu hears his blood pounding in his ears.

Suigetsu fastens his teeth to the junction of Sasuke’s neck and shoulder, feels the shudder that ripples through the others body at the contact. 

Sasuke bites at his jaw, gets a good enough grip in Suigetsu’s hair to jerk his head back. The pinwheeling red pupils are gone, replaced with a black gaze that shivers deep in Suigetsu’s bones. 

"I'm on top." 

Suigetsu only grins against the burn of Sasuke’s fingers knotted in his hair, makes sure to show all his teeth. 

"Whatever floats your boat Sasuke,” He drawls casually. “I'm just hot and horny for ya." 

Sasuke’s lip curls in disgust.

He should have known Sasuke would be a dick about this. “Watch out, your face might get stuck like that.”

“You’re pathetic, you know.”

Suigetsu is still laughing, but he shuts up when Sasuke manages to pin him right where he wants him and gets down to business. It seems the Uchiha are an efficient lot, despite still managing to have a flair for the dramatic. Sasuke’s fingers slide into Suigetsu in a round of somewhat perfunctory prep, one two three, slick with water and spit and not much else. 

“Uhnn g-gah, fuck!”

Of course the bastard didn’t waste time, it would honestly be laughable to assume otherwise. Suigetsu screws his face up, concentrates on panting through the burn and stretch of Sasuke’s fingers -- which seem already able to crook to just the right spot, damn him -- the punishing bruise of his hand on Sasuke’s hip.

“Can’t handle it, Suigetsu? I thought your kind liked it rough.” Sasuke’s voice is so imperiously snobby that Suigetsu wants to bite him. 

Still, he’s not wrong. The pain is heavy and sweet, like a candy that rots your teeth, driving the sea-spray from his mouth and making lights spark in his head. Suigetsu crumbles clumps of sand in his fingers and relishes it.

“You’d be--hah--surprised what my kind are into, Sasuke-kun.” He flings a hand up to bring Sasuke’s sneering lips to his own again, messy to teach him a lesson. He wraps his fist in all that dark hair, sweat-soaked and limp, sand crusted to Sasuke’s scalp because the little bitch has barely bathed at all, just as dirty as the rest of them.

“I might be the one about to get fucked, but you’re not so high and mighty yourself right now are ya, pretty-boy?” He whispers the words harsh against Sasuke’s ear.

It was reassuring to see Sasuke brought low by lust just as Suigetsu knew he could be, low enough to rut in the sand, and seeing him matty and miserable from the desert even more so. 

The Uchiha’s face has an intense, faintly glazed look to it, his breath hitching and shallow as he pushes Suigetsu’s long legs up on his chest and lines himself up, and Suigetsu stills for a moment as Sasuke slides into him quick and sharp, like he wants it to hurt.

Suigetsu doesn’t give a damn if it hurts or not, and he should know that, but Sasuke has never been good at seeing past the end of his own shiny, desperate motives.

He is stunning though, no one can deny that - finally seated in Suigetsu he’s shuddering, his mouth falling open slowly and lips bloody from Suigetsu’s kisses, his cheekbone a red gash that catches the moonlight, and his stomach hard and lean where it’s pressed against Suigetsu’s own cock, twitching and leaking from the tip now because--

\--because Fuck it felt so good to be full. Felt so good to have someone else’s sweat on his skin. Felt so good to feel himself focus, those succulent eyes just a few inches away, barely a snap of his jaw and they’d be on his teeth, hot and bursting.

It was intoxicating.

Those shivery wrists are in his hands--Sasuke’s left palm grips one of Suigetsu’s calves--holding him close and still as though if he doesn’t Suigetsu will wiggle away like a eel--but the other one is in the sand for leverage, grime under his nails, and Suigetsu grasps his forearm firmly. 

“Nee--need something to hold on to, you pussy?” Sasuke can never resist an opportunistic insult, and Suigetsu does like him that about him, the bastard. He only giggles and grips tighter, so tight he can feel the fragile bones creaking under his fingers.

“Nahh,” He bears down on Sasuke’s cock in him, twists his hips up aggressively. “I’ll just hold onto you.” Sasuke shifts a little and Suigetsu clenches his teeth hard for a stinging moment. 

“Ah--shit--I’ll hold ya inside me till you’re all used up--till you gasp and cum and--fill me right up, how ‘bout that?”

Sasuke chokes on a raw groan at his words, and Suigetsu likes that, because really, who knew Sasuke was in to dirty talk? 

Then Sasuke’s really starting fucking him in earnest, hips pistoning with a quickly building pressure. The desert wind scours blades over their backs as they grind in the sand, kicking up dust that hovers like ash in the whipping air, the moon heavy and glaring above them, a searchlight. 

It’s honestly a fucking miracle Karin and Juugo don’t wake up for this shit. 

Sasuke doesn’t bother touching Suigetsu’s cock, because he’s an inconsiderate ass, but Suigetsu manages to keep a hand on himself instead, and it barely even matters because of how damn great he feels, his head blank, centered to this moment, every thrust fixating him to this shape.

He’s grounded like this, grounded into being fuckable and fucking substantial, despite the desert driving him half-crazy, the dry heat setting every molecule of his being quivering with desire to shatter, spill out and rise up to the sky.

Suigetsu hasn’t wanted to evaporate since he left Orochimaru’s tank, even though it’s all that little demon-boy of Kirigakure ever wanted to do, wanted to fly glorious and masterfully sublime in the clouds--but look where that had gotten him.

He’d been spit out of that tank half-gone and half-formed, dripping from months of fucking straight-up torture, expected to manage without a damn murmur.

Suigetsu bites clean through his own lip, eyes clenched shut when Sasuke hits a particularly good spot, spikes of heady pleasure shooting through him. He could take it. He could take it all. 

It doesn’t take long, frantic and violent as they are, and Suigetsu yells when he comes, loud and vicious like a seabird cry. Sasuke’s eyes flash dangerously red for a moment, his hand over Suigetsu’s mouth in a flash and his voice scraping in a deliciously wrecked whisper over Suigetsu’s ears.

“Fuckin’ idiot, d-do you want us to get caught?” He pinches Suigetsu’s thigh, bruising.

Suigetsu ignores him, too intent on riding out the waves, wiping his mind clean like a wet sponge, mewling under Sasuke. 

And maybe that pulls Sasuke in too, because then he’s slowing in Suigetsu, and his head is thrown back, arched back and perfect chin just as utterly beautiful as ever. The slippery soak of his cum in Suigetsu, trailing slick and wet down his crack and staining his thighs, feels like pure fucking bliss.

Sasuke rolls off Suigetsu in a heap, chest heaving. 

They lie in silence for a moment.

Then Suigetsu chuckles raspily to himself. 

“Hah--see, that wasn’t all bad, was it?” He shifts with a slight groan, ass already aching. “I do pride myself on being a decent fuck.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Sasuke mutters, hauling himself up after a moment of sated silence and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Next time I’ll blow you then, huh? Get ya all comfy with some foreplay first, for your delicate sensibilities.” Suigetsu turns slowly on his side, posing somewhat suggestively as he snags his water bottle from where it lies a few feet away, guzzling it hungrily. 

“There won’t be a next time, you cretin.” Sasuke’s doesn’t seem much interested in post-coital chat, gathering himself up and reaching for his belt, voice cool.

But Suigetsu isn’t so sure. He sees the way Sasuke is looking at him as he lies there, brazenly splayed in the sand.

Sasuke’s gaze lingers on him, as though only just noticing Suigetsu has smoothly flawless skin, just noticing the way his spine is long and elegantly lethal when he finally moves to get up, just noticing that his hair is thick as a snowdrift, his mouth is glistening and his collarbones sharp enough to slice your palm on.

Suigetsu knows his favors tend to sneak up on people, but it’s always nice to see it happen. 

Maybe he’d get his teeth in those eyes eventually.

X

Sasuke summons enough water to clean themselves completely, because If there’s one thing the Uchiha apparently can’t stand it’s not bathing after sex -- to hell with dwindling chakra reserves.

Suigetsu is almost delirious at the feel clean water sluicing over his skin. If Sasuke does this every time they have sex, perhaps the rest of the trip could be bearable.

He kisses Sasuke one more time before slinking back to his bedroll, grabs his neck and jerks his mouth toward him rough and toothy, and Sasuke must be kind of tired because he lets it happen, even though his eyes flash and his hand smacks Suigetsu upside the head after, scowling.

“Fuck you,” He mutters.

Suigetsu grins again, sharp. “Anytime, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke grunts at him but doesn’t say anything, a victory in itself. 

The air is dry as he settles in his blankets, but his body still feels damp, heavy with sated exhaustion. He revels in the cool feeling lingering behind his ears. Sasuke the wannabe avenger, the lesser son struggling and proud, is likely a better lay than Itachi-san could ever hope to be, he figures.

X

 

Kirigakure looms again in his sleep, because of course it’s not going to vanish completely, probably ever. There are ominous dark clouds thick with rain and surging blue-black waves, steep cliffs of glassy rock crumbling to the sea. The roiling water bubbles like a cauldron beneath him, about to boil over.

But when a purple-eyed child steps forward and bares his teeth, this time Suigetsu laughs with him--undaunted, reckless, triumphant--and feels the wind on his face.

X

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All feedback, thoughts, random missives, etc. are super appreciated!
> 
> Title/summary is taken from the song "Are You Mine" by the Arctic Monkeys, which is literally one of the best bands, in my opinion, for fic titles/inspiration.
> 
>  
> 
> Suigetsu is so much fun to write. Sasuke is a little shit, what's new?


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